


five times freddy freeman held billy batson (and one time billy held him)

by furtivus



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But also, Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Heathens, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Angst, Nightmares, Panic Attack, Platonic Cuddling, Shazamily - Freeform, and girls - Freeform, bit of a whump, brothers loving and supporting each other, drowning reference, except billy of course, gets a bit angstier as it goes on, if you’ve read those, in this house we heal, in this house we love and support each other, i’m australian so you might not like my spelling lol, i’m good at that, lots of comfort, lots of hurt later, magic boys, maybe a little more than canon typical, minorly graphic description, my boys looking after each other, no beta we die like men, not as graphic as my other fics, the shazamily only have one power in this fic, this is not slash, wholesome boys being boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-31 16:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18595123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furtivus/pseuds/furtivus
Summary: because that’s what brothers do





	1. Chapter 1

1

He’s drowning — there’s a hand on the back of his head holding him down, holding him under — water burning his nose and filling his lungs — heavy darkness pinning him in place, trapping him, so that he can’t move, can’t struggle —

Billy wakes with a gasp, back and forehead slick with sweat, his hair stuck down. His sheets are tangled around his legs and part of his torso, and it takes him a moment to still his uncomfortably heavy breathing before he can begin to untangle himself. His heart pounds so heavily in his chest that he can hear it, can feel the beats in the back of his head. His mouth tastes like metal.

It’s still dark, but Billy isn’t sure just what time it is. There’s a clock across the room but he can’t be bothered to turn and look. He also doesn’t particularly want to. There’s a part of him that wants to climb down and shower away the sweat and the fear, but a larger part of him doesn’t want to wake anyone. And he doesn’t trust his legs not to give way.

Of course he’d been having nightmares — for the past few weeks, almost every night since the fight with Sivana he’d be graced with a nightmare. Mostly they weren’t terrible, more bad dreams that he’d wake from come morning with only a faint sense of unease. Others, though. Others were like this.

It takes a moment for his emotions to really kick in. The fear and desperation hit Billy hard, the nightmare — little more than a twisted memory — still fresh in his mind. Hot tears spring to his eyes as he remembers the feeling of Sivana holding him under, of desperately trying to call on his powers, of water filling his mouth and nose and knowing he could do nothing, even as he heard his family screaming around him.

Billy doesn’t realise he’s shaking until he hears the covers below him shift. He holds a hand over his mouth, even though he was making no audible sounds, for fear of waking Freddy. Billy focuses on calming his breathing, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth — because there’s no water, no hand on his head, just air and a pillow.

It takes Billy a few minutes more to stop shaking, and even though his eyes still burn and his chest still aches, he’s stopped crying and his breathing has evened out. He lays motionless for a moment in the darkness, hand still over his mouth, gaze on the ceiling. Eventually, when the blankets beneath him remain still, he sighs softly and pulls his hand away, allowing it to drop through the bars of the railing and out into open air.

Briefly, the air around his hand shifts, then Billy feels fingertips graze against his own. A punch of brief, irrational fear hits him, and he tenses, then he remembers where he is, who he’s with. It’s Freddy.

Billy immediately goes to apologise for waking Freddy up, when he hears him shift, feels Freddy’s hand raise slightly. Billy immediately moves too, pressing himself closer to the railing so Freddy won’t have to strain to reach him. He feels Freddy squeeze his hand once, for comfort, for reassurance, then loosen his grip. They both relax, but neither one pulls away.

A sense of ease fills Billy, and his breath, calm as it was, deepens further. He eases back into the mattress, feeling suddenly drained from his nightmare. He closes his stinging eyes and breathes out, tension leaving him.

When Billy next opens his eyes, the floor is bathed in warm light and his hand is empty. He flexes his fingers slightly, trying to get feeling back into them. He withdraws his hand from between the bars and gives a soft groan, rolling his shoulder. His groan is echoed from below, and Billy sneaks a look over the railing. Freddy is still asleep on the bottom bunk, his hand in an awkward position that suggests it had fallen.

Billy’s heart warms slightly at the sight, and the realisation that Freddy never let go of his hand, just lost his grip when he fell asleep. It confuses him just how happy it makes him — he’s never had anyone to hold his hand through the night, to reassure him when he’s hurting, to calm him when he’s scared.

Moving as quietly as possible, Billy climbs down from the top bunk. Freddy shifts slightly in his sleep, mumbling something that he can’t make out. Carefully, Billy crosses the room to their shared closet, pulling out clothing for the day. As comforting as the room is, the dried sweat on his nape and forehead makes him feel gross, and he doesn’t want to spend the school day feeling like that. Closing the door quietly behind him, he makes his way to the bathroom and runs a shower.

When he goes back to his room, clothes fresh and hair plastered down with water instead of sweat, Freddy is sitting upright on the bottom bunk, chewing on his lower lip.

“Hey, man,” Billy says, suddenly a lot less confident. He doesn’t really know how to react, so he just takes a seat on one of the lower rungs of the bed’s ladder. “Thanks, um, for last night.”

Freddy opens his mouth to reply, then pauses. He swallows thickly and instead asks, “Are you okay? Does that...does that happen a lot?”

For a beat, Billy doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t want to worry Freddy. “No,” he replies, shaking his head. “Just had a bad night.”

“Oh, really?” Freddy gives a half laugh. “‘Cause it kinda seemed like you were used to it.”

Billy doesn’t reply, and Freddy bites his lip again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t —”

“No.” Billy blinks down at his hands. “No, you’re right. I’ve been having nightmares since we fought Sivana. Not normally that bad, though.”

Freddy shifts in his bed, moving so he’s sitting beside Billy. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks softly,

“I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, it’s not like I’ve never had nightmares before.”

“Maybe not, but this is a superhero thing, and we’re a superhero team. And I — we care about you. You’re our family. We wanna help.”

Billy looks at Freddy from the corner of his eye, jaw tense. He casts his gaze down at the floor. “I’m just...not great at this kind of stuff. At talking.”

Freddy nods briefly. “Okay. That’s okay. I know that — that you haven’t — that things were —”

“That I haven’t had a family before,” Billy supplies, and Freddy nods.

“Yeah. That. So I get that this is gonna be hard for you. And it’s gonna take time for you to — to get used to all this properly. But we are here for you. And you can come to us with anything. Okay? Well, maybe not _everything_ with mum and dad, because then you’d have to explain about the whole superhero thing, but you can talk about that with the rest of us. We’re here for you.”

Billy nods slowly, and the corners of his mouth momentarily twitch upwards. It elicits a smile from Freddy, and he straightens, before reaching across Billy to grab his crutch from where it leans against the end of the bed.

“Come on,” he says, pushing himself up and moving to the closet. “Mum will come get us if we don’t go downstairs soon, and I’m not awake enough to come up with an excuse for why I’m attempting to comfort you without spilling that you had a hero nightmare.”

Billy snorts softly and shakes his head, but he stands up and makes some attempt at making his bed. He looks across at Freddy, who is grumbling over his limited clothing choices — his own fault for throwing all his clothes over a chair in the corner of the room, rather than putting them in the laundry with the other dirty clothes — then turns his attention back to his bed.

Billy finishes his mediocre attempt at fixing his bed and steps back, looking down at his hands. He flexes the fingers of his right hand, flicks a quick glance at Freddy, and smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Billy hates crowds.

It’s a very particular hatred. If he’s in a busy shopping centre alone, trying to squeeze between people going in the opposite direction, or walking between classes around kids stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, he couldn’t care less. It’s when he’s with other people, trying to stay close them, in the middle of a crowd, that things go wrong.

Freddy knows that Billy hates crowds.

He knows, perhaps better than the rest of his family, just how bad crowds are for Billy. He knows, because he’s woken up to Billy crying out for his mother, crying out for Rosa, crying out for Freddy himself. He’s still not quite used to his best friend’s nightmares, but after everything he’s been through, Freddy can’t blame him.

So Freddy understands why Billy stops dead at the edge of the crowd, jaw tight and shoulders tense, worried gaze following Rosa, Victor and the other kids. He’s torn, not wanting to be left behind, but also not wanting to follow along and be lost, just like he was with his birth mother.

Freddy squeezes Billy’s arm briefly, drawing his attention, and follows Rosa for just a few steps. “Mum!” he calls, and she turns immediately. “Billy and I will catch up, okay?”

Rosa’s gaze jumps from Freddy to Billy, standing a couple of metres back. Her face softens and she nods. “Call me if you need me, okay? One of us will text you when we’re leaving.”

Freddy nods eagerly and moves back to Billy, who is slightly less tense. “Come on,” he says, wrapping his free hand around Billy’s wrist and leading him a less crowded way. “Rosa always takes ages at markets,” he says, voice as reassuring as possible. “And this one is pretty decently sized. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Time to...what?”

“I dunno. Whatever you wanna do. We normally split up when we go to markets like this anyway, since there’s so much stuff, and everyone likes different things. Like, Rosa tends to look at clothes, or plants or things for the garden, and Victor isn’t really into that stuff. And then Mary tends to take Darla around.” He stops near a fairly uncrowned stall to give Billy a chance to breathe, to think. “So,” Freddy says after a moment, “what do you want to do?”

“Um.” Billy looks around and bites his lip. “I’ve never really been at a market before. Why don’t you just take the lead?”

“Sure.” Freddy looks around, trying to pick out a stall that would interest him. He seems to spot one, as he calls a soft, “Come on,” to Billy and starts walking. Billy hurries after him, settling in to an easy pace at his side. He still seems a little unnerved, Freddy notices, but ultimately appears more comfortable. The fact that he’s walking slower than most probably makes it easier still for Billy.

The boys wander for a little, flitting between clothing stalls and vendors selling merch and nicknacks. Billy notices that Freddy has been taking them around the outside of the market, staying at the edge stalls. When they’re almost back to their starting point he begins delving a little deeper, where the crowd begins to thicken. Billy steps closer to Freddy, perhaps a little closer than would normally be comfortable, but if Freddy notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Keeping close together, the pair shuffle through the crowd, occasionally stopping when something piques their interest, though it’s usually Freddy leading the charge. Billy is beginning to come to the unsettling realisation that he doesn’t have a _thing_ , not like the others. Freddy has his comics and his insane superhero knowledge; Eugene has his games and his computing skills (plus the hacking, not that he or the other kids will let anyone else on to that secret); Pedro has his music and his workouts; even Mary and Darla have their own hobbies, though theirs are looser, harder to just simply describe — their hobbies are creativity.

And Billy? All he ever had was his mum. Finding her was all he ever wanted, and now there’s a void he hasn’t filled, and time he doesn’t know how to kill.

“What’s your opinion on plants?” Freddy asks, snapping Billy out of his spiralling thoughts.

“Uh — they’re — good?” Billy walks the few steps to where Freddy stands, looking down at a small potted plant in his hands.

“I mean, if I put one or two in our room, would you hate them?”

“No. Unless I end up with dead leaves in my sock drawer, I don’t think it’ll really bother me.”

Freddy laughs at that and sets the plant down, looking through the others on the table. “Don’t worry, succulents are basically impossible to kill. There won’t be any leaves in anyone’s socks.”

“Good. In that case, go nuts.”

There’s a soft snicker from Freddy as he hands over the money for two plants — one with soft, almost furry blue-green leaves, and the other with bunches of small, bright orange leaves — and swings the bag containing them over his shoulder.

“I’m hungry,” Freddy says as they leave the stall. “Are you hungry? I’d kill for some food. Something super unhealthy.”

Billy chuckles softly. “Yeah, actually. I barely ate this morning, what with Rosa rushing us out of the house like she did.”

“Come on, I’m pretty sure I saw a guy selling potato slinkies over this way.”

“Selling what?”

Freddy stops dead in the middle of the grass, gaping at Billy. “You’ve never had — okay, no, we need to fix that. Come on.”

He takes a moment to search, then his eyes light up, apparently having found what he was looking for. Freddy moves a little deeper into the crowd and Billy’s chest tightens. He follows Freddy to the vendor, who seems pretty popular, a small group of people gathered in front of the truck.

Billy leans against the side of the bright yellow food truck, arms drawn tightly across his chest, and waits for Freddy, who joins him a few minutes later with a handful of potato slinkies. He passes two to Billy, and keeps the other couple for himself.

“Let’s find somewhere to sit, yeah? My leg is killing me.”

Billy just nods and follows Freddy, who seems to be going in the direction of a small hill they passed earlier, near the spot where kids were queuing for camel rides.

They’re only halfway there when Billy gets jostled away, and it’s only for a moment, but fear spikes in the pit of his stomach. He lurches forwards, free hand catching hold of Freddy’s shoulder, and his friend tenses. Turning his head, Freddy catches sight of the look on Billy’s face, and his own expression shifts.

“Not far,” he promises. And Billy believes him.

It’s only a minute or two later that they find themselves on the small hill in the shade of a tree, biting eagerly into still-hot potato slinkies.

“You were right,” Billy mumbles, mouth half full. It’s an actual blessing. If he didn’t harness the power of old gods and still considered himself an atheist, this might just be the thing to tip him into faith.

Freddy gives a proud grin and sets down the skewer of his first slinky, turning his attention to the second. When he finishes that, too, he sits back and waits for Billy to finish as well, before speaking.

“How are you feeling?” Freddy asks simply, and Billy shrugs.

“Better now. I just needed to get out of that crowd.” He pulls a face. “Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t — don’t apologise. I’m sorry I dragged you right through the busiest bit. That was kinda shit of me.”

“Nah. I need to get used to it eventually. And besides, if I’ve gotta go through crowds with anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Freddy blinks for a moment, surprised, then he throws an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “You know I’m always gonna be here for you,” he says, trying to sound as sincere as possible without making things weird. Then, just to lighten the mood, he adds, “Besides, you can’t escape me that easily. You’re stuck with me.”

Billy laughs and shoves him lightly. “Dork,” he says, grinning. His grin slips into a faint smile after a moment and he says, “But, really. Thank you.”

Freddy doesn’t really know what to say — after all, he’s not good at this whole talking thing — but luckily he doesn’t have to think of a reply. His phone chimes in his pocket and he pulls it out, pulling a face.

“Rosa says she’s headed back to the van. We should start going too.”

Billy nods and wipes his hands on his pants, pushing himself up. He offers a hand to Freddy, who gratefully accepts the help, and together they start back in the direction of the carpark.

They’ve almost cleared the stalls when something catches Billy’s eye, and he stops dead. “Freddy,” he calls, and he stops immediately, looking back at Billy.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just — gimme two minutes.”

Billy takes a few steps towards a stall and crouches down, gaze roaming over the guitar that caught his eye.

“Ah, you have good taste.”

Billy jerks his head up at the voice and sees the stall owner standing at the back of the protective tarp laid out on the ground. He springs to his feet, startled, but the man just smiles.

“She was my first,” he says, motioning towards the guitar. “Not the best quality, not as good as the one I have now, but she’s good for a beginner.”

“Uh...she?” Billy asks, still a little surprised.

The man bends to lift the guitar. “She,” he says, nodding. “Hold her, see what you feel.”

Billy’s brain is already running a million miles a minutes, trying to come up with the least offensive way of saying he feels nothing, but the second he takes hold of the guitar he doesn’t need any lies. He can feel it. He can’t put it into words, but the guitar in his hands _feels_ like a _she_. Like more than just an object. There must be something in his expression, because the stall owner nods with a smile.

“You ever played before?”

“No. Uh, sir.”

“Okay.” The man bends down to a box at his side and pulls out a handful of books. He holds them up, and Billy sees that they’re all aimed at beginners — basic techniques, finger positions, all the things you need to know to play properly. “I can throw these in for, mm...” The man clicks his tongue as he thinks. “Say, an extra fifteen.”

“Are you sure? They don’t look cheap.”

“I’m sure. They’re just sitting around my house gathering dust. You’ll get more use out of them than I will.” He nods his head at the guitar. “And she’s eighty, with the hard case.”

“Woah. That’s — I know how expensive guitars are.”

“I know. But she needs some patching up, too, so I can’t charge full price, can I?”

“Patching up?”

“The strings are getting old. They’ll last you long enough for you to know if you want to keep playing, if you want to pay to upkeep her. Plus there’s a few little nicks and digs around the edges where I got a little overzealous with her. Other than that, she’s just fine.” He offers a smile. “We have a deal?”

Billy nods, a smile breaking out over his own face. He hands the guitar back to the man, who drops into a plastic chair and begins tuning the instrument, while Billy pulls out his wallet. He’s still got money left over from showing off his powers, though he won’t have much once he buys the guitar. Not that he minds, though. He’s almost happy to be rid of it.

After taking the money, the man carefully sets the guitar down in the case and snaps it shut. Billy takes it, and the books, from him with a grateful smile.

When he looks up, Freddy is standing a few metres away, one eyebrow raised but smiling nevertheless.

“What?” Billy asks as he steps up next to him and they resume the walk to the carpark. “Now that I’m not looking for my mum, I need a new hobby. And busking is better than selling my superpowers.”

“Like you’ll ever be good enough to busk,” Freddy teases, earning him a light elbow to the ribs.

They arrive at the car park a few minutes later, and when Rosa sees Billy carrying the guitar she cups her hands over her mouth before pulling him into a hug. Seems like he wasn’t the only one to notice his own lack of a hobby.

Mary and Darla are the last to arrive, wearing new matching necklaces and laughing about some inside joke they developed over the last few hours.

Mary takes Eugene and Pedro back in her car, so that the others don’t all have to cram into the van and they can fit some of the things they bought in the back. Darla joins Billy and Freddy in the van, and Victor sits up front while Rosa drives.

The trip back home is quiet, everyone tired from the day’s events. Darla falls asleep with her head against Billy’s arm, and he just smiles faintly down at her.

They’re about halfway home when a tired Freddy raises his hand slightly, considering his choice. After a moment he bites the bullet and rests his hand lightly on Billy’s knee. Billy looks at him, sees the unsure yet unwavering expression on his face, and smiles again. He rests his own hand against Freddy’s, and instantly the other boy relaxes. It’s a reassurance, and a promise. He’s there for Billy.

Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t know how markets work in america so this is based off the markets near where i live  
> do y’all have camels?  
> we have camels  
> comments are very very welcome


	3. Chapter 3

3

There’s the good and the bad of being a superhero.

Good things include the fame, the sense of satisfaction, and Billy must admit — though never out loud — the responsibility gained.

Bad things include a psychopath trying to kill you and your family, having to hide your real identity for fear of your life, and the nightmares that come with the job.

Saving the day tends to count as a good thing.

But not this time.

Billy digs his heels into the ground between the train tracks and tightens his grip, straining with everything he has to haul the train back up onto the tracks.

Someone bombed the skytrain — made a _point_ of bombing the skytrain — and it was sheer luck that Billy was close enough to reach the train before it went fully over.

It’s not a particularly big train, but the majority of the weight is hanging in open air, making it hard for Billy to stabilise it, especially considering he doesn’t have a good grip and doesn’t dare let go to adjust his hold.

Panic sets in as the train slips further and he hears people inside crying out. Billy digs his fingers into the metal of the back of the train, feels it crack and give in his hands as it forms a makeshift handle. His feet skid across the rocks between the tracks and he shouts, voice cracking. Without a second thought he presses one foot flush against a crosstie and shifts his weight to the other, anchoring himself in place.

The people inside the train have gone deathly quiet, and Billy can see a few terrified faces peering out at him from the back windows. The weight of the front of the train drags him forwards and he bites back a cry as his legs jar hard into the ground. Sweat breaks out on his forehead and he grits his teeth.

Billy starts walking backwards, hauling with all his might, digging his feet into the rocks and straining to haul the train just a little further, just a little bit more, just until it’s safe —

The makeshift handle cracks, metal digging into the flesh of Billy’s hands and drawing blood. With a sickening tearing sound, the torn metal comes away from the body of the train and it lurches forwards. Screams echo in Billy’s ears, a cacophony of sound drowning out his own desperate cry as he lunges desperately after the train. His blood-slick fingers slip over the metal and he can do nothing but watch as it slips further over the edge.

Then the train stops.

It’s a sudden stop that jars Billy just as much as it does the people in the train. For a second he stands, stunned into silence and inaction. Then —

“Need a hand?”

Billy’s head snaps towards the sound and his gaze lands on Pedro, powered up and holding tight to the back of the train. Billy lets out a shaky breath and hurries to his side, wiping his bloodied hands on his suit as he goes. He takes a hold of the train — a more stable grip this time — and digs his feet in again.

From the corner of his eye, Billy sees a purple blur shoot past and come to a stop beside the train car he’s holding. Hands a blur, Darla shatters the glass of a window and begins helping the passengers out onto the tracks. On the other side, Eugene is directing the passengers to move to the back of the train as carefully as possible, as far from the pitching front as they can get. He’s helping people out on his side, too.

Up front of the train, Freddy breaks open another window and begins carrying out the passengers stuck in the vertical car. He can’t help as many as quickly as Eugene and Darla, as he can only fly one or two people down at a time, but some are better than none, and with both Pedro and Billy hauling the train back he hopefully won’t have to carry them all.

Billy works in a haze. He feels disconnected, like his hands aren’t attached to his body anymore, like he’s seeing through a mist. Throat tight, muscles burning, he walks slowly backwards, using the crossties to steady himself. Pedro moves beside him, walking in tandem with him, straining to haul the weight of the train.

For a few minutes more they struggle backwards, the only sound between them the faint grunts of stress and the clacking of stones beneath their feet, until Freddy — a young girl held tight on his hip — flies up from the broken patch of railway. “You can stop!” he calls, flying down to the railway and setting the young girl down out of harm’s way. “The train’s safely up.”

Billy and Pedro haul the train back a few metres more, just to make sure there’s no chance of it slipping over, then the latter moves to pry apart the doors of each train car.

The people flock to the group of superheroes, tearfully thanking them, hugging those who were willing — mostly Darla — and checking on their own friends and family. Billy stands at the edge of the group, eyes flicking over the civilians with barely-contained worry. As more people turns to him his expression cracks and he steps back, mumbling out something no one understands with a faint salute. He takes off, and the remaining superheroes exchange confused glances.

Freddy is quick to follow, taking to the sky just seconds after Billy. He catches up to him almost immediately — Billy’s flying low and fast, but he’s almost unsteady in his movements. Something about him seems off.

Suddenly, Billy pitches out of the sky, crashing through the trees of a park below. Freddy drops after him, and finds Billy kneeling on the ground, breathing heavily.

“Dude, are you okay?” Freddy asks, crouching beside him. His eyes find the blood on Billy’s hands and he takes them in his own, but Billy quickly snatches them away. “Dude —!”

Suddenly it occurs to Freddy just what’s happening. He takes a breath and lowers his voice. “Billy? Billy, I need you to focus. Okay? Focus on me.”

Slowly, Billy lifts his gaze, and Freddy smiles faintly.

“I need you to say it, Billy. Okay? Someone could come by.” Freddy waits for a moment, but when nothing changes he gently squeezes Billy’s hand. “Come on, Billy. Please?”

Billy’s voice comes out as a whisper, but it’s a “Shazam” all the same, and Freddy quickly repeats it. After the bright light dies away, Freddy falters, unsure of just how to proceed. He knows panic attacks are different for everyone — some people need contact to ground them, while others only feel worse. Even more, he’s never actually been present while during a panic attack. The closest he’s gotten is a classmate needing to leave the room during a test because they were verging on an attack.

Finally, Freddy places a hand gently on Billy’s back and begins to rub it in gentle circles. It’s something he picked up from Rosa — from long nights sick or scared, curled in her arms as she calmed and comforted him.

It seems to have an effect, as Billy’s shaky breathing evens out ever so slightly. Freddy doesn’t know what exactly set off the attack, so he doesn’t know how further to comfort Billy, but he does his best to reassure him. He murmurs softly, mostly just the same “it’s okay” and “deep breaths” while he continues rubbing circles into Billy’s back.

A few long minutes later, Billy’s breathing returns to normal and the faint shaking of his shoulders stops. Freddy keeps calming him, quietly speaking those same few phrases over and over, maintaining that faint contact.

“Are you okay?” he asks, softly, after a few more minutes.

“Is everyone alright?” Billy replies, voice raw and low.

A beat passes before Freddy realises what he means. “Yes. Everyone’s fine. They all made it off the train okay. I promise.”

Billy slowly sits back on his haunches, and Freddy carefully withdraws his hand. Billy blinks, his eyes bone dry, and sighs. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Now, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just...” Billy runs a hand through his hair. “It’s my job to protect people, and I almost let them down. I couldn’t hold them. They almost died because of me.”

Freddy shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault. All the blame goes on whoever set that bomb off. You fixed the trouble they caused.”

“I almost didn’t, though. I lost my grip. The train fell. If Pedro hadn’t —”

“But he did. Because we’re a team, okay?” Billy lowers his gaze, and Freddy ducks his head down to stay in his line of sight. “Okay?” he says again, giving the other a pointed look.

“You keep saying that,” Billy mutters.

“And I mean it.” He offers a smile. “You’re family. And my best friend.”

Billy freezes for a moment, unsure of just what to say, to do, because he’s never been someone’s family before, and he’s certainly never been someone’s _best friend_.

Then he pushes himself to his feet with a smirk and says simply, “So are you.”

Now it’s Freddy’s turn to be at a loss. He stands up too, clinging to Billy’s arm for balance when he remembers his crutch is laying at home, and splutters, “So am I, what? Which part am I?”

“Come on,” Billy says, changing the subject. “Let’s go home. I’m really tired.”

“Billy, please, what am I?”

“A lot heavier than you look.” That earns Billy a jab to the ribs that sends them both stumbling, and only they just manage to catch each other before they fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a bit of liberty with the ‘skytrain’ bc I looked it up and Philadelphia only has one elevated train track that didn’t look super high  
> I might be wrong, feel free to correct me, I am but a simple Australian


	4. Chapter 4

4

Freddy knows immediately that something is wrong.

Billy’s sitting on the bottom bunk, guitar across his lap, strumming distractedly. His gaze is lowered, but distant, like he’s not seeing what he’s looking at. His fingers glide from fret to fret, with practiced ease.

“Billy?” Freddy asks, and Billy’s hands shift, strumming out a rotten chord that even Freddy — who doesn’t have a musical bone in his body — knows is off key.

Without speaking, Billy slips the guitar’s strap back over his head and sets it down in the case, which rests at his feet. Closing the case, he nudges the guitar under the bed with his foot.

“Everything okay?” Freddy asks, coming to sit beside him.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.” Freddy snickers, but Billy doesn’t smile. “Wow,” he says, expression shifting. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Billy takes a breath, then says quickly, “Freddy, I want you to stop using your powers.”

There’s a beat. Then, “Wait, what?”

“Not stop using them always. You can still power up and fly around and train or whatever. And I’m not just picking on you, I’m gonna talk \\\to the others about it too. But no more fighting.”

Freddy considers his words for a minute before he starts laughing. “Good one, Billy. But it’s not April Fools yet.”

When Billy doesn’t laugh, Freddy’s smile drops. “You’re not serious, Billy. Why do you want us to stop?”

“You won’t get it.”

“Bullshit.” When Billy doesn’t reply, Freddy nudges him. “C’mon, dude. I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t say —”

“So tell me.”

Billy shakes his head and looks down at the ground again. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

“You want me to stop using my powers — that is my problem.” Freddy takes a deep breath and softens his voice. “Please, Billy. Don’t shut me out.”

“I don’t want you fighting anymore.”

“Is this because of what happened today?” The second he speaks, Freddy _knows_. He sees the look in Billy’s eyes, that contemplative gaze he takes on whenever he delves into his own mind. “Because of what almost happened to Darla. Billy, she was powered up. She’s fine.”

“But what if she wasn’t?”

“Then she wouldn’t be there.” Freddy gives a half laugh like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No one would let a _kid_ get near that guy.”

Billy’s barely listening. Memories of the fight from earlier attack him again, of the beast of a man before them razing buildings to the ground, tearing cars apart, breaking a chunk of asphalt to a point. Of the horrifying moment where he drives it towards Darla’s middle, intent on spearing her, only to have the asphalt crumble apart the second it reaches her. No mortal weapons can harm them, he’d remembered as Darla served an uppercut to the man’s face, and asphalt was very, very human.

But what was the limit? Natural things? Plants, trees, rocks? If someone drove one of them onto a sharpened rock, would it pierce the magic?

It was something he never wanted to think of, and the only thing he could think of. But he didn’t have the words to explain it to Freddy, so instead he just said, “It’s more than that.”

“Then what?” Freddy thought for a moment, his expression twisting into one Billy couldn’t read. “Is it the glory?” he asked, the pitch of his voice sparking in Billy an emotion he couldn’t name.

“I’m sorry?”

“The glory? Is — is that why you want us to stop? So you can be the only hero, the only one people watch?”

Billy stands up and crosses the room in a few quick steps, hand reaching for the doorknob.

“Don’t walk away from me! Not when I can’t follow you.” Freddy pushes himself to his feet, glaring daggers.

“It’s not about the glory!” Billy snaps, turning on his heel and taking a single, almost threatening, step forwards. He and Freddy haven’t fought like this in months, and it twists his stomach into knots. “Do you — do you really think that little of me?”

“Then why do you want us to give up our powers?”

“Freddy, please.”

“Why —?”

“Because I can’t lose you!”

Freddy’s resolve breaks, and from the look on his face, Billy’s does, too. The wall he had built up around himself crumbles away, and he sinks to his knees as hot tears pool in his eyes.

“I can’t lose you,” Billy repeats, voice a broken whisper. “ _I can’t_.”

He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stop his tears, but the dam has already broken. With a sob he doubles over, curling in on himself like he can hide from the world.

Freddy slowly lowers himself to the ground and kneels in front of Billy. He leans slightly over him, fighting back tears of his own. He can’t cry now.

“I’m sorry,” Billy whimpers, more to himself than to Freddy. He keeps saying it over and over, like a mantra.

“Hey,” Freddy says, making his presence a little more known. “None of that. Don’t apologise for anything.”

Billy seems to realise he isn’t alone anymore, and he sits up suddenly, clinging to the front of Freddy’s shirt.

“I’m scared, Freddy,” he says, voice barely audible through his tears. “I’m scared of losing you, I’m scared of you getting hurt, I’m scared I won’t be there to save you —”

“We don’t need you to —”

“I know, I know, you have powers too but I just — I’m so scared and I hate it — after everything I just can’t stand the thought of losing you, I _can’t_ —”

He breaks himself off with another sob and Freddy wraps his arms around him. He feels Billy shaking, tears wracking his body. After a moment he sucks in a ragged breath and continues, some bizarre desperation fuelling him to continue, like if he doesn’t say what he’s thinking now he never will.

“I’ve never — never had a family, not really and — and you’re my best friend, Freddy, I don’t — want to lose this. Lose any of you. And you —” he chokes again.

“Billy —”

“You’re my brother.”

It hits Freddy like a punch in the gut. He knew, logically, and legally too, but to hear Billy say it...

And then Billy says, “And I love you.”

And Freddy breaks.

His own dam crumbles and he screws his eyes shut as tears spill down his face. He holds Billy a little closer, a little tighter, struggles to calm his own breathing.

“I love you, too,” Freddy says, or tries to say — he’s not sure he makes a sound. He grips Billy’s shoulders and straightens him, meeting his gaze. Freddy takes a breath and says again, “I love you, too. Okay? And it worries me, too, when you go off on your own, a—and when you get hurt. You’re my best friend and my brother. I don’t want you to lose you, either.”

Billy’s shoulders slump like a great weight has been lifted from them and he leans forwards, burying his face in the crook of Freddy’s neck and wrapping his arms loosely around his middle.

“I know things haven’t been easy for you, and you’re worried,” Freddy continues, “but you don’t have to be. We’re a team. A family. We’ll look out for each other. That way no one gets hurt. Okay?”

Billy nods against his shoulder and Freddy relaxes, suddenly exhausted. He wraps his own arms around Billy, in much the same way Rosa would for him whenever he was worried or upset, and exhales slowly, pleasantly surprised to find that at some point he had stopped crying.

The two boys sit like that, held tight in each others’ arms, until their legs begin to cramp and their backs start to ache. Finally they pull apart with groans, which quickly dissolve into soft chuckles as they stretch their aching limbs.

“My legs hurt more than when Pedro and I pulled that train,” Billy jokes, and Freddy barks out a rough, dry laugh.

“My head is killing me,” he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose. His throat feels dry and scratchy, eyes burning.

Billy stands carefully and helps Freddy up, handing him his crutch once they’re both stable. Freddy takes it gratefully and leans his weight onto it, holding deadly still as pins and needles fade in his legs.

“We’ll talk to the others about all this,” he says softly, and Billy turns to look at him. “About you not wanting us to get hurt, I mean. Being more careful.”

“Okay. Yeah, good idea. But if I even think about crying, I’m out.”

“What, you’ll cry for me, but not the others?”

Billy huffs and folds his arms over his chest, and Freddy worries for a moment that he said something to offend him. Then he sees the faint upwards twitch at the corner of Billy’s lips and he breathes a relieved sigh.

“Right now, though, I just want to clean up my face,” Billy says, and Freddy laughs softly when he sees just how red his eyes are, and thinks of just how red his own must be.

Freddy rubs dried tears from the corners of his eyes and leans his weight on his crutch.

“I’m sorry I pushed you like that,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just — this is so new and I love being, well, whatever the alter ego is called. I know things have been more stressful since Mary went to CalTech, but I also know we can handle this. I’m just sorry for lashing out.”

“Thanks.” Billy shoves his hands in his pockets and does that little half-shrug that Freddy knows means he’s struggling to find words. “And, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just freaked like that. I should have talked to you guys first.”

“It’s okay.” Freddy nudges him lightly, earning a faint smile, and echoes it with a reassuring one. “And you’ll see. We’ll be just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how the tags say it gets angstier as it goes  
> have fun  
> sorry this update took a little longer, i watched endgame with a friend, then we watched shazam again to drown out the sadness  
> good times


	5. Chapter 5

5

“Okay, Enigma!” Billy calls, hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. He throws his arms out wide, pacing around the edge of the building’s roof. “I’m here, just like you wanted!”

For a long moment, nothing happens, and Billy wonders if he’s been set up. Here, on the empty roof of a high rise apartment building, powered down and vulnerable, it’s the perfect place to take him out. Then a brilliant glow cuts through the gloom of the storm clouds gathering above him, and the form of Enigma comes into view. He floats carefully down, stopping a foot or two above the roof.

“You took your time,” Bill says, projecting much more confidence than he feels. “I thought you weren’t gonna show up.”

“I am here, just as we agreed.”

“And I’m powered down, just as we agreed.”

Enigma’s expression hardens, and cold dread settles in the pit of Billy’s stomach. The word sits at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill forth and save him, but Enigma merely nods. The glow of plasma around his form dies away, and he drops the last few feet onto the roof, his unfair elegance driving a stake through Billy’s self confidence. How dare he drop so gracefully when Billy would fall like a sack of potatoes.

“Alright,” Enigma says, straightening with inhuman grace. His expression is cold, calculating. His poise is perfect. “To business, then.”

Billy nods, shoving one hand into his pocket and scratching at the back of his head with the other. “So,” he says, starting to pace in small circles, “I figure you want the Champion’s power. And sorry to tell you, you’re not the first —”

“No.”

That one word catches Billy by surprise and he freezes mid step, looking back at Enigma over his shoulder. “What?”

“I don’t want your power.”

Billy’s expression hardens and he turns, walking to stand in front of Enigma. “Then what?”

“I want you gone. I want your power gone. It is too great. There is too much uncertainty surrounding it. Surrounding you.”

The reality of his words sinks in and Billy exhales heavily, looking up at Enigma through thick eyelashes. “You want to kill me.”

“I want to end the Champion’s line. You are merely a casualty. With you gone, the power will die with you.”

Cold dread spears Billy’s stomach like icicles. “What about my family? I won’t let you hurt them.”

“You were the one gifted with the power of the Champion. They merely borrow it from you. No harm need come to them.”

Billy looks down, breaths growing heavy. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head disbelievingly. “And, what — what about me?”

A twinge of compassion enters Enigma’s expression and he holds out a hand. “I don’t want to have to hunt you down,” he says. “Just come with me, and I promise it won’t hurt.”

With a shaky sigh, Billy lifts his head. He looks at Enigma’s outstretched hand and raises his own, moving to take it. Then, his hand millimetres from the other man’s, his expression splits into a grin, the terrified expression evaporating, and he leaps back with a cry of, “Now!”

A bolt of lightning shatters the relative peace, exploding against Enigma’s side at the same time as a purple blur slams into him with fists flying a mile a minute. Darla skids to a stop a few metres away, and behind her, Freddy and Pedro come out from their hiding places. On Enigma’s other side, Eugene stands, fingers still crackling with electricity.

“Treachery,” Enigma shouts, brilliant multicolour plasma flaring to life around him.

“Nah,” Billy replies, shaking his head. “You said I had to be powered down. You never said I had to be alone.”

Enigma draws his hand back, a bright ball of plasma forming around his closed fist, but before he can release it Darla goes flying past with another flurry of punches. The blast misses wildly, and Billy grins.

“You wanna see treachery?” he teases, stepping back towards the edge of the roof.

The plasma around Enigma flares, forcing the others to move back away from him. Billy’s eyes widen a touch at the man’s rage and he spins on his heel.

Billy manages, “Shaza—” before he cuts himself off with a scream, a blast of sunset orange plasma hitting him square in the back and sending him flying.

Pedro slams into Enigma, a furious shout bursting forth as he drives the man into the ground. “What did you do?” he roars, only to be thrown backwards by Enigma.

“Freddy!” Darla calls, and Freddy, eyes wide, turns his attention to his equally panicked sibling.

“He’s not saying it,” Freddy whispers, turning back to the edge of the roof. With a desperate shout of, “Billy!” he dives over the edge.

Freddy dives after his brother’s plummeting body, desperately pushing himself to reach him, panic fuelling his plight. He hooks his arms under Billy, slowing their descent — not daring to stop suddenly, knowing it’d do just as much damage as the sidewalk — and draws to a stop mere feet above the ground. Immediately he shoots up, clutching Billy to his chest.

“Billy,” Freddy says, frantic gaze roaming his brother’s face. When he receives no reply, his voice goes quiet, desperate. “ _Billy_?”

Billy’s back is burning hot through the fabric of his shirt. Freddy’s only solace is the fact that Billy’s shirt moves freely, meaning it’s not seared to his skin.

He’s so small, Freddy thinks, looking at Billy cradled tightly in his arms. So fragile. He suddenly can’t stand his own body.

Freddy’s vision blurs, tears blinding him. But that’s okay — he doesn’t need to see. He knows exactly where he’s going. It’s mere minutes later that he hits the ground, taking the brunt of the landing away from Billy. Freddy rights himself, floats to the front porch. He shifts Billy’s weight, lifts one hand to wipe away his tears then brings it around to knock furiously at the door.

It takes Rosa all of two seconds to throw the door open.

When her frantic gaze finds Billy she steps back, hands flying to cover her mouth and eyes wide, panicked.

“I’m so sorry,” Freddy whispers, not trusting himself to speak any more.

“Victor!” Rosa shouts, her voice cracking. The sound of footsteps on the stairs greets Freddy, and when he realises Rosa is too in shock to do anything more, he takes the initiative and lets himself in.

Freddy hovers a few inches from the floor, not trusting himself to land — because even though he’s powered up his leg still isn’t _okay_ , still isn’t _normal_ , still aches, albeit less, to the point where he can’t stand alone — and he hates having to float through his own house like some pompous bastard with his brother’s body in his arms.

Victor almost runs into him coming from the living room. He staggers back, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of him — of a man he doesn’t know holding his unconscious son, drifting through his house like he has the layout committed to memory. Then he pushes the thoughts away and clears off the dining room table, motioning Freddy towards it.

Freddy’s painstakingly careful as he lays Billy on the table, turning him gently in his arms so he can rest him on his stomach.

“What happened?” Rosa asks as she enters the room. Freddy can see her hands are shaking.

“It was Enigma,” Freddy mutters, and the name burns like acid. “We tried to get him away but — I’m sorry, we weren’t fast enough. He was hit in the back.”

Rosa reaches out to draw back Billy’s shirt with gentle fingers. She barely manages to pull the hem all the way to his shoulders before she lets out a sob, and Freddy doesn’t blame her. As Victor pulls his wife into his arms, Freddy stares down at the burn decorating the majority of his brother’s back.

Faint scars crisscross Billy’s back, all the way from his shoulders to where they’re hidden by the hem of his pants, a mix of old and new. Freddy’s never really seen them all, never really taken note of them. And now so many of them are covered with angry red burns — or one large burn, really, that’s most prominent between Billy’s shoulder blades and thins out along his spine, running out at the small of his back.

Victor and Rosa look on in a mixture of shock and horror while Freddy forces down tears. “I’m sorry,” he says, partly because he doesn’t trust himself not to cry, “I need to go.”

Rosa nods briefly before pressing her forehead to Victor’s chest. Freddy drifts backwards out of the room, forcing himself to turn away from Billy and go. The rest of his family still needs him.

 

Billy swims to consciousness slowly and painfully. There’s a fire racing under his flesh, hitting every nerve in his back, burning him alive. He cries out, hands curling into fists, but there’s nothing to grab, nothing to hold on to.

He opens his eyes and his vision swims with tears. Billy tries to sit up, but the pain flares and he screws his eyes shut again, letting out another pitiful sound. He needs her, he needs —

“Mum,” Billy begs, throat raw and voice breaking. Even as he hears footsteps come towards him he cries out again, “Mum!”

“Billy,” Rosa says, hurrying to his side, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible even though she’s nowhere near calm herself. “Billy, sweetie, it’s me, it’s —”

“Mum,” Billy whimpers, latching onto her. Rosa freezes, caught between too many emotions to name. Slowly she wraps her arms around Billy, holding him where she knows he isn’t burned.

“Yes. I’m here, Billy, it’s okay.”

Billy closes his eyes, his grip loosening as Rosa runs gentle fingers through his hair. When the fire of his back reduces to mere embers he pulls back slowly.

“What happened?” he asks. “I was — and then — how did I get here?”

“One of those heroes brought you back. The blue one.”

“The blue —” Billy’s eyes widen and he straightens, even as the tensing of his muscles causes them to burn. “What happened to him? And the others?”

“They’re still fighting that man, Enigma.” Rosa shakes her head as if to end that train of thought. “Billy, please, don’t strain yourself. Victor’s getting the van ready, we’re going to take you to the hospital.”

“No.” Billy shakes his head, swings his legs over the edge of the table. He hops down before Rosa can stop him and almost falls, just managing to catch himself on the table. “No, I can’t — they need me, they need my help.”

“Billy, what —”

But he’s already walking, slow as he is, through the house. Rosa’s hot on his heels.

“Billy, please, you’re hurt — you’re not thinking clearly.”

“I am. I am thinking clearly. I know what I’m doing. I just need you to trust me.”

He pushes the front door open, expression contorting into one of pain. Billy gets one foot on the porch steps when Rosa catches his wrist.

“Please,” she whispers, and Billy can hear the fear in her voice. “Come back inside.”

“Let me go, mum,” Billy replies, keeping his voice low and gentle. Rosa doesn’t fully let go, but her grip loosens enough for him to slip his hand out and get out onto the lawn.

Rosa starts after him but Billy holds a hand up and she stops. “Billy,” she says, fresh tears brimming in her eyes, “please, don’t run away again.”

Billy walks slowly backwards, still holding his hand up, even as he looks around. There are no alleys for him to secretly change in, no places he can run and hide. He’s going to have to call it, out here in the open.

Oh, well, he thinks. It had to happen eventually.

“I’m not running,” he calls, lowering his hand. He meets Rosa’s gaze, offering her a faint smile, then shouts, “Shazam!”

The change takes more out of him than it ever has, and Billy drops to one knee, chest heaving. His back still burns, fire lacing every muscle, but it’s dulled, suppressed. He takes a few deep, heavy breaths before pushing himself to his feet and rolling his shoulders. Billy breaks into a run, stumbling on the first few steps but quickly righting himself, then he takes off, though nowhere near as high or as fast as normal.

Now that he’s airborne, Billy can see the fight between Enigma and his family. Flashes of lightning and plasma illuminate the darkened sky, and Billy heads straight for them.

Coming to a stop above the roof of the apartment building, Billy realises that they’ve managed to corner Enigma, and create a plan of attack that appears, for the most part, to be working. Darla circles their small group, forming a border much smaller than the roof, and simultaneously keeping her away from the brunt of the danger — it’s genius and, Billy will admit, not something he’d ever have though up himself. Eugene stands just inside Darla’s border, firing an almost constant stream of lightning at Enigma, while Pedro and Freddy alternate on taking hits at him — Pedro from behind, Freddy from above.

They’re doing ridiculously well, and Billy is just thinking he may be able to catch his breath before helping, when he finds himself in the nightmare scenario. Freddy makes a dive, delivering a punch right to Enigma’s jaw, but as he swoops up Enigma’s hand lashes out and catches hold of his ankle. Enigma’s hand glows a brilliant gold and Freddy _screams_ , struggling to break free.

Billy sees red. With a roar he surges forwards, lightning racing the length of his body in great crackling bounds, and slams into Enigma. The two go rolling, and Billy kicks out, sending Enigma flying and himself rolling backwards. He pulls himself to a stop, ending in a crouch.

“Billy!” Freddy cries, as the other heroes cheer their brother on. “You’re okay!”

But when Billy lifts his head, it’s obvious that he’s not quite alright. His breathing is uncomfortably heavy, chest heaving, and the others can see in his expression the pain he’s feeling.

“Hey —”

“I’m fine.” With a groan, Billy pushes himself to his feet and takes on an offensive stance.

Nodding, Freddy turns to the others. “Darla, keep going on that perimeter; Eugene, we need that lightning again. With Billy helping you should be able to subdue Enigma long enough for me and Pedro to knock him down.” Suddenly, Freddy turns sheepish, and he throws a glance at Billy. “I’m sorry — I know you’re in charge but —”

“Don’t you dare apologise. It’s a genius plan, I never would have come up with anything like that. Besides, I’m not really in a place to do more than shoot lightning right now.”

Darla kicks off as Enigma pushes himself to his feet. The plasma around him flares brightly, his expression contorting into a mask of rage. He suddenly goes flying forwards as Darla forms the perimeter right behind him, knocking him off his feet.

Eugene throws his hands up, lightning hitting Enigma while he’s still down, and the man roars, lunging at Eugene. Pedro cuts him off with a solid punch to the side, and Enigma doubles over, the plasma around him momentarily dissipating.

“Are you okay?” Billy asks as Freddy drifts down beside him.

“Me? You seen yourself?” He looks down at his ankle and shrugs. “I’ll be fine. How’d you get away?”

“Mum knows.”

Freddy’s eyebrows furrow as Billy takes a breath. Why would —

“She and dad were gonna take me to the hospital, but I had to come help you. I had to power up in front of the house. She saw.”

It clicks just then that Billy isn’t talking about his biological mother, but Rosa. At any other time he’d be ecstatic. But it isn’t any other time.

“Freddy!” Pedro calls, and Freddy whirls around. His expression hardens and he shoots forwards, knocking into Enigma at high speed. Eugene follows it up with a blast of lightning, one that Billy matches.

Enigma shouts, body convulsing with the excess lightning. The plasma around him thickens, and Freddy and Pedro surge backwards right before Enigma releases it.

Eugene redoubles his efforts and Enigma staggers, trying to keep himself stable. Billy grits his teeth, strengthens the lightning that springs from his hands. Fear and fury fuel him, every fibre of his being working to pin down the man in front of him, to just make Enigma stop. The lightning of two heroes is too much for him to shrug off, too much to convert into plasma, too much to handle.

Freddy dives down again, delivering a spinning kick to Enigma’s face with his good leg and flying out of his reach in a second. Pedro doesn’t give Enigma even a second, lashing out at the man’s back, side, face. Even Darla breaks perimeter to run past, landing a few quick punches. Again and again they hound Enigma, not letting him get a hit in edgewise, barely even allowing him to move.

And finally, finally, the faint mist of plasma that surrounds him dies completely away and he sags to the ground with a groan. Eugene drops his hands, giving an exhausted sigh. Billy lowers his arms and takes a few long, laboured strides towards Enigma. He lifts the barely conscious man by his collar, pulling him up to eye height.

“I am not a casualty,” he growls. His furious expression slips, becoming dazed. Enigma falls from his grip and he drops to his knees.

“Billy!” Darla cries, running to his side. She shakes his shoulder gently. “Billy, are you okay?”

Billy nods faintly, forcing a few shaky breaths. He looks up at Freddy. “Get him out of here,” Billy murmurs, motioning towards Enigma.

“Where? He’s magic, dude.”

“You’re the comic book nerd. Figure it out.” Billy slumps with a groan, and Darla takes some of his weight.

“We need to get him home,” Eugene says, drawing Freddy’s attention. “Just get this guy somewhere and we’ll meet you on the ground.”

With Billy being the only other one of them who can fly, and not being up to even that, they have to take the stairs of the thankfully emptied apartment complex. The fight above had cleared out the building quickly. In the time it takes them to get to the street outside, Freddy has returned, empty handed.

They’re nearing home when Billy stumbles, barely managing to catch himself. His siblings look at him with worry, even though he hates it, and he shakes them away.

“So they know?” Freddy asks, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Yeah.” Billy nods, picks up the pace. “Mum saw me power up. She’ll have told dad. They’ll figure it out about you guys soon enough.”

Everyone is silent for a moment, then Darla elbows Billy lightly. “You called them mum and dad,” she teases playfully.

“Hmm.” Billy considers it for a moment. “I guess I did.”

They’ve barely made it halfway across the road when Rosa throws the door open and barrels into the yard. A strange sense of relief floods Billy, followed by an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. He needs to power down, before he passes out, knowing it’d be easier for Rosa to explain why a teenager was injured than why she knew a superhero.

“Shazam,” he murmurs, voice just the ghost of a breath.

Rosa is momentarily blinded by the bright flash of lightning, vision returning just in time to see Billy collapse. She surges forwards, but before he can fall too far, the blue-clad hero — who Rosa recognises as the one who’d brought Billy home — catches her son and holds him carefully against his side. Rosa slows to a stop in front of him and looks up, gaze finding the man’s panicked expression.

It’s something she’d been wondering since she saw Billy power up, but now with them all standing in front of her...

“Freddy?” Rosa asks, voice almost timid. He looks down, expression a lot calmer than she expected, and nods.

With a shaky sigh Rosa steps out of the way. “Bring him in, quickly,” she says, and Freddy hovers inside, bringing Billy with him. The other kids power down and run after him, but not before Darla lets Rosa know about Freddy’s burned ankle, knowing he wouldn’t bring it up while Billy was still hurt.

Victor isn’t surprised to see Freddy this time, and when he sees the rest of his family come running after him, it’s easy to connect the dots.

“Get him in the van,” Freddy says, carefully passing Billy to Victor.

“You too, Freddy,” Rosa says as she enters the room.

“I’m fine.”

“Darla told me about your ankle.”

“It’s just a little burn, and it won’t be as bad when I change back. Please, just Billy to the hospital. I’ll stay here with the others.”

Rosa looks like she wants to argue, but she takes another look at Billy, held carefully in Victor’s arms, and nods.

“If anything happens —”

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

Rosa nods again, grabs her purse and keys and hurries Victor to the van. Freddy hovers in the middle of the living room until he hears the van drive away, at which point he collapses into the closest chair, not game to power down, and waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my only real engagement with dc is the movie so i made up the villain for this chapter oops  
> how’s that uhhhh angst going for you  
> also i really like the idea of freddy still being disabled even while powered up but the power of flight meaning it doesn’t effect him as much so you’ll probably see that in, like, all my fics


	6. Chapter 6

+

Freddy’s starting to understand just what it’s like for Billy to dream.

Of course, he’s been having bad dreams in the months since the fight with Sivana, but those were few and far between. The past few days have been hellish, with nightmares he can’t escape that leave him frantic and drained. He knows, logically, that Billy’s fine, that if anything happened to him he’d be one of the first to know. But it doesn’t stop the dread that traps him like amber whenever he finds himself in an empty room of a night.

Minor second degree burns, Rosa had said when she returned from the hospital. She’d had to talk Freddy down from panic before he’d even consider letting her examine his own injury. Most of the burns were superficial, and would heal with proper care within a month, though the centre of Billy’s back, where the plasma was most concentrated, was deeper and would, without a doubt, leave a scar. He didn’t, however, require skin grafting, which was a small mercy.

Under normal circumstances Billy would have been released from the hospital as soon as it was determined he didn’t require grafting, but he hadn’t been brought in under normal circumstances. Billy hadn’t woken the entire time he’d been examined, the pain and exhaustion rendering him unconscious for almost a full day. And even when he had woken, he’d been barely lucid, slipping in an out of awareness as the pain medication worked its magic. There was also the unknown — Enigma’s plasma had been magic in origin, and no one knew the extent of the damage it could cause. That meant Billy was stuck in the hospital for a whole week, under intense watch, to be certain there were no side effects.

It was on that first night that they’d had the impossible task of calling Mary. Victor had finally been the one to make the call, stepping out of the living room where they’d all gathered, but it hadn’t mattered — the others could all hear Mary’s frantic shouting coming from the speaker even with walls between them. She’d wanted to come immediately, but had finally been talked into leaving it a few days, which gave her both time to calm down and meant she’d miss less of her studies since Billy wouldn’t be out for a week.

Freddy had slept horribly that first night, and things only got worse from there.

Victor and Rosa hadn’t had the talk with them yet, but everyone knew it was coming. It was the fourth night after the fight when Freddy woke from yet another nightmare after only a few hours of sleep and decided to just give up trying. He’d crept down, quietly as possible, to the landing in the middle of the stairs, intent on swiping from the stash of chocolate Rosa hid in the back of the pantry, when the sound of voices had reached him. He’d crouched in the darkness, ears straining to pick up his parents’ conversation.

“How did we not realise?” Rosa had asked, voice soft, expression unreadable. “They’re our kids, and they’re — they’re heroes.”

“Well, they do look rather different, you must admit,” Victor had replied, and there had been a sound like a playful hit from Rosa followed by Victor’s soft, rich laughter.

“You realise that was them out there, with that man, that Sivana. And everything since then, that’s been them. That’s been our kids. How could we let them walk into danger like that?”

“We didn’t know. And besides, they’ve been handling themselves up until this point.”

“Have they? Didn’t you see all the scars Billy has? They aren’t all old, Victor.” Rosa had given a shaky breath, one that made it sound like she was going to cry. “Did they ask you, too? At the hospital?”

“If we did that?” Rosa must have nodded, because a moment later he gave a soft, “Yes. They did.”

“We should have known. We should have seen it. When Billy came back, right before ran off to find his birth mother — when he was limping, you remember?”

“Honey, we couldn’t have known. He was still getting into fights back then, we just thought —”

“We should have asked. We’re his parents, we should have — should have done something.”

“Would he have told us?” There’d been a long stretch of silence before Victor had spoken again. “We need to trust them, Rosa. I know this is more serious than them staying out late or swiping alcohol from the cabinet — both of which we were guilty of too, remember — but we need to let them come to us. Especially Billy. We can’t chase them down or they’ll just clam up, and that’ll make things harder for everyone.”

“I know, but —“

“Having said that, we will have a talk with them. When Mary and Billy are here too, of course.”

Rosa had sighed, and something in it had clenched around Freddy’s heart like a vice.

“They’re just so young, Victor. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

“I know. I know.” A few minutes later Freddy heard the obvious sounds of Victor shifting, and took that as his cue to leave. He’d just managed to hear, “Come on, it’s getting late. We better get some rest.” before he had passed out of earshot.

He hadn’t been able to sleep any more that night.

Mary had arrived the next morning, greeted with a hug from a teary Darla, who she’d scooped into her arms and hadn’t set down for at least an hour. Freddy had come to see her, of course, but after that he’d retreated to his room, too tired to even attempt human interaction. The next he’d seen of anyone had been at dinner that night, when everyone ate in a tense silence.

It had been the same since.

And now?

Now he’s sitting in the living room, bouncing his good leg nervously, somehow simultaneously exhausted and wide awake. It’s been only minutes since Rosa and Victor got the call saying they could come to pick up Billy, and, late as it was, they’d left immediately.

The kids are all uncomfortably quiet, no one knowing just what to say. None of them have seen Billy since he was brought to the hospital, so their last memory of him, save for Mary, isn’t a particularly good one. Freddy can’t get out of his head the image of Billy, passed out and in pain, held tight against Victor’s chest.

“Hey,” Mary says, soft voice finally breaking the silence, as she rouses a half-asleep Darla. “It’s getting late, and mum and dad probably won’t be back for a while. Let’s get you to bed.”

Darla hums sleepily in response and allows Mary to scoop her up. Mary casts a quick glance at the others. “You guys shoulder probably head up, too. It’ll take mum and dad a while, and Billy will probably just go to sleep as soon as he gets home, so there’s no need to wait up.”

Eugene and Pedro are quick to follow Mary to the stairs, and Freddy waits until they’re all upstairs before slowly makes his way after them. He’s not keen on sleeping, knowing all he’ll get for his trouble is more nightmares, but Mary’s right. The hospital is a fair way’s drive from their home, and it would take time for Rosa and Victor to check Billy out. The best thing for everyone is for him to at least try and sleep.

Freddy changes slowly into plain pyjamas, dumping his clothes over the chair in the corner. Billy normally reminds him to put them in the laundry like a normal person, but he stopped caring over the past week. Freddy turns out the bedroom light, but leaves a lamp on for Billy, and drops unceremoniously into bed.

He doesn’t really expect to fall asleep so quickly, but the pent up exhaustion from the past few nights hits him hard, and within minutes Freddy is asleep.

It’s all the worst nightmares rolled into one. There’s Sivana and the Sins and Enigma and all the other villains and thugs they’ve faced since getting their powers, and Freddy is powerless to do anything against them. He’s stuck watching his family suffering, stuck hearing them screaming, stuck feeling Sivana’s lightning tearing through his body, just like it did when he tortured their address out of him.

Freddy wakes up with a scream stuck in his throat, one that comes out as a pitiful whimper. It’s pitch black in the room, meaning Billy must already be home. Freddy doesn’t need to look at the clock to know it’s early morning, when the rest of the world is sleeping and time is distorted. It’s the worst part of the night to wake up in, because it seems to last forever.

The fear kicks in after a moment and Freddy lets out a gasp, covering his mouth with his hands to avoid waking up Billy. He can barely breathe — there’s not enough air reaching his lungs, but he can’t force himself to breathe slower, deeper, can only lie there in a blind panic while he hyperventilates. Somewhere along the way he kicked his blankets away, and they lie in a tangle around his legs. It doesn’t help with the fear, just makes him feel trapped, restrained.

A hot lump burns at the back of Freddy’s throat, the only warning he gets that tears are on their way. They blind him instantly, overflowing down his cheeks as his frantic breathing turns to ragged sobs. At least he’s getting more air now, but there’s little he can do to quiet himself.

The sound of the covers above him shifting silences Freddy instantly. He waits a few minutes, holding back his sobs, but when Billy doesn’t make any further sounds, Freddy allows himself to let out the breath he’d been holding.

He’s got mixed feelings, now — because he loves Billy, and he wants his brother to rest and recover, but god, if he doesn’t want a hand to hold right now. His throat’s closing up again, and his hands are shaking, and in the moment he makes a decision, even though he knows his hope is fruitless.

He reaches a hand up, into the darkness.

And fingers, warm and real, wrap around his own in a firm but gentle hold.

Freddy lets out a shuddering breath and throws his free arm over his eyes, not quite believing Billy’s really there. He feels Billy squeeze his fingers gently and repeats the action himself, relief flooding him.

The relief is quickly replaced with dread when Billy’s hand pulls away. Freddy throws his arm off his eyes and pushes himself up slightly on his elbows. He’s knows he’s being irrational, ridiculous even, but Billy was right there and now he’s gone —

The covers above him shift again, the wood of the frame creaks, and there’s the sound of footsteps on the ladder, then Billy is standing beside the bed, looking sleeping down at Freddy and motioning half heartedly between them.

“Move over,” he finally mumbles, voice thick, and Freddy shifts until he’s pressed up against the wall. Billy climbs carefully in, staying on his side so nothing presses against his bare back. Freddy can just make out in the darkness bandages wound around his torso in the spot where the burn was worst. The sight of it alone brings fresh tears to Freddy’s eyes.

“Hey,” Billy says, and his voice is so soft, so gentle, so _caring_ that Freddy just crumbles.

The tears spill free and a sob escapes Freddy before he can stop it. His chest burns, tight, constricted, and his hands start shaking again. Distantly he feels Billy wrap his arms around him, draw him close, and Freddy presses his forehead to Billy’s chest. He goes instinctively to return the hug, stops before he can touch the burns, and instead tucks his arms under Billy’s and up, to rest his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Billy murmurs, and Freddy feels him begin to rub gentle circles into his back. “It was just a dream. You’re alright.”

It occurs to Freddy that everything Billy has done — from holding his hand to rubbing his back and talking gently to calm him — are all things he, over the past few months, did for Billy. It instills in him a strange sense of pride, knowing that he taught his brother how to _be_ a brother. How to be family. How to be a friend.

Neither of them are sure how long they lay there in each other’s arms, but it’s long enough for Freddy to calm down completely. Billy never rushed him, never told him not to cry or to just relax, and he’s grateful for that. When Freddy’s breathing returns to normal and he remains silent for a few minutes, Billy speaks up.

“Feeling better?” he asks in that same thick drawl.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Freddy draws back slightly, but neither one of them lets go of the other. “Are you okay?”

Billy nods, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. “I’m so doped up on pain meds, dude, you have _no idea_. I can hear colours.”

Freddy chuckles softly against his chest. “You’re so weird.”

“Hey, you put up with me. That makes you weird, too.” After a moment Billy’s expression shifts into one of mild concern. “Are _you_ okay? Seemed like a pretty bad nightmare.”

“It...it was.”

“Enigma?”

“Kinda.” Billy waits a moment for him to elaborate, and Freddy finally relents. “It was everyone. Sivana, Enigma, the works. I couldn’t do anything.”

Billy pulls him a little closer, and Freddy finds himself relaxing into his hold. “You know it was just a dream, right?” he says, voice gentle. “That we’re all okay.”

“I was so worried about you. I still am, a little,” Freddy admits.

Billy hums softly and draws back so he can see Freddy’s face. “I’m okay. Nothing a little bit of time won’t fix. Okay? You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You’re my brother, of course I worry about you.”

“Okay, no more than the normal amount.” His expression grows vacant for a moment, the pain meds kicking in hard, and when his gaze clears again Billy asks, “What did you do with — with Enigma?”

Freddy snickers softly, which earns him a funny look. “You know the — the doors? At the Rock of Eternity?”

“Did you feed him to the alligator men?”

“No!” Freddy laughs softly, shaking his head. “No, there was this one door, and it led to — I don’t even know. It looked like a whole other planet. Most of the ground was covered in this thick blue-green goo, with little islands sticking up in a few places. And there were these, uh...you know tardigrades?”

“Yes?” Billy raises an eyebrow, well and truly confused.

“There were these really big tardigrades. Except longer. And their mouths were kinda beaky. Just — just blobbing through the air.”

“ _Blobbing_?” Billy dissolves into a fit of hushed giggles, and Freddy rolls his eyes. “Is that even a thing?”

“It’s the best way of describing it, okay? Anyway, I threw Enigma on one of the little islands. It looked like there was a city not too far away so he’ll probably be fine.” He pauses briefly then asks, “Why did you wanna know?”

Billy hums softly for a moment before replying, “In case I ever wanna beat him up for hurting you.”

“Hurting _me_? Billy, he wanted to _kill you_.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t, cause we’re awesome. Is your ankle okay?”

“My a—” Freddy cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He knows Billy is just worried about him. “It’s fine. Mum patched it up when she got back from the hospital, and you decked Enigma before he could do any real damage.”

“Good.” Billy draws Freddy close again. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Freddy rests his forehead against his brother’s chest with a murmur of, “Me, too.”

A few minutes pass before Billy, voice noticeably more tired, asks, “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?i”

“Please.”

Billy just nods, shifting so he’s a little more comfortable. Freddy does the same, finding himself more calm than he’s been in a long time. He’s almost asleep when he mumbles a soft, “Billy,” not really expecting an answer.

“Mm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

Billy smiles faintly and gives a soft hum. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “Besides, that’s what brothers do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are, done and done, something soft and wholesome to finish off the story  
> i’ve already got an idea or two for potential future fics so if you liked my work, keep an eye out  
> thank you guys so much for all the love and support!! your comments literally mean the world to me!!

**Author's Note:**

> chapters shouldn’t take too long to write, i’m hoping to update every day or two  
> comments are very very welcome


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